


A Proper Education

by SouthSideStory



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Reylo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5944609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthSideStory/pseuds/SouthSideStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You need a teacher."</p>
<p>Rey often recalls Kylo Ren’s words. When she has to beg Luke Skywalker to train her, she thinks she shouldn’t have to fight for this, and remembers her enemy’s impassioned declaration in the middle of their battle on Starkiller. How eager he was to show her the ways of the Force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_You need a teacher._

Rey often recalls Kylo Ren’s words. When she has to beg Luke Skywalker to train her, she thinks, _I shouldn’t have to fight for this_ , and remembers her enemy’s impassioned declaration in the middle of their battle on Starkiller. How eager he was to show her the ways of the Force.

Later, after long days of meditating and practicing near-forgotten lightsaber forms, Rey sometimes lies in bed, sore and restless, thinking of Ren’s offer. Some weak part of her wonders whether he would be a more willing instructor than Luke, who teaches her with so much reluctance.

* * *

The refrain comes back a year later, long after galactic crisis interrupted her training, drawing both she and Luke away from Ahch-To.

Ren is with the Resistance now. He abandoned his fellow knights, his allies, and his Supreme Leader. Ran to D’Qar with every bit of ammunition against the First Order he could get his hands on and used it to bargain for immunity. He gives them the locations of enemy bases and mass weapons schematics, and in exchange, he won’t be prosecuted for his crimes. There are many amongst the Resistance who chafe at this deal, at the justice he’s escaping, but the general has the final say.

“Traitor,” Finn calls him, casually, the first time the three of them are alone in a room together, and Rey can’t help but smile.

Without the mask he relied on for fifteen years, it’s startlingly easy to read Ren’s expressions. His face remains calm, almost passive, but everything he feels is evident in those dark eyes. He’s a little amused by Finn’s taunting, but also angered by it, Rey thinks.

The war room fills with other Resistance fighters, all of whom stand as far from Ren as they can. Even once the chamber is uncomfortably crowded a halo of empty space remains around him. No one wants to touch him, to risk contamination.

Rey might feel sorry for him if he hadn’t tortured Poe, invaded her mind, murdered his own father, and half-killed Finn.

Still, as the days pass, she finds herself watching him. Ren remains alone, always; even Leia leaves him be. She isn’t sure whether this is on the general’s prerogative or his own. As much as she despises this man, Rey begins to feel the uncomfortable tug of compassion for him. She knows loneliness too well, grew up under its crushing weight, and she wouldn’t wish it on even the likes of him.

When he says, “Train with me,” more a command than a request, it’s on the tip of her tongue to refuse him.

Instead, Rey says, “Fine,” grudging but curious.

She tells herself that she agrees out of pity, but once they fight there’s no room for something so condescending. Ren moves with such fury, all frenetic passion that overwhelms the serenity Luke taught her to embrace. That red lightsaber of his sparks and wavers, likes its blade is on the verge of exploding, as unstable as its owner. Rey doesn’t understand how he wields it so easily, spinning his weapon through aggressive forms as if it’s a part of him.

Their spar ends with her back against the wall, his huge hand gripped around her wrist, so impossibly strong that her hold on her lightsaber weakens. Her fingers open, and the weapon falls to the duracrete floor.

Ren smirks at her and says, “You still need a teacher.”

* * *

Gevan Alterra is a Resistance fighter just two years older than Rey, almost as skilled with a blaster as Finn, neither very cruel nor kind. He’s handsome enough, in a common sort of way. Nothing special, truly—but he’s black-haired and brown-eyed, tall and strongly built. She likes to think that this isn’t why she invites him back to her quarters, but Rey knows better. She never has been any good at lying to herself.

She’s had one lover before. Another scavenger who frequented Niima Outpost, a boy her own age who rutted on top of her when they were both seventeen, who kissed her with selfish eagerness and came before she could even get past the pain of the act. She’d only agreed to fuck him because the loneliness had been suffocating that night and she was so desperate to dispel it. This hadn’t worked of course. Nothing ever did, until she left Jakku.

It isn’t despair that drives her now. Ever since she started sparring with Ren, she’s been kept awake at night. Thinking of his strong body: broad shoulders, muscular arms, long legs. The emotive instability of his deep voice, wavering on some feeling or another every time he speaks. How his smiles are so fleeting that they’re almost impossible to catch, but she finds them all the more beautiful for their brevity. Rey still doesn’t like Ren, doesn’t trust him, but she _wants_ him, and she has to do something about it.

Gevan kisses her between her bare legs, and in the darkness of her spartan room she can pretend that it’s someone else using her body this way. When she imagines it’s Ren whose eager mouth is working on her tender flesh, Rey feels the first spike of real pleasure she’s ever experienced in bed with a man. She moans into the shadowed heat, then bites her lip to keep from whimpering the wrong name.

But then the warmth of Gevan’s kiss is gone, and he’s climbing on top of her, pushing his cock against her sex, then thrusting inside of her. She’s wet, and her body accepts his easily enough. It doesn’t hurt the way it did with the nameless scavenger boy, but now that Gevan is panting on top of her, his face cast in silver by the full moon’s light, the illusion of Ren is destroyed. The desire that pooled low in her belly dissipates, fades into nothingness, and all she can feel is a strange man’s frenzied fucking, making her sore and frustrated.

Rey hopes that he won’t last much longer.

* * *

Now, when she remembers the offer Ren made her on Starkiller, there’s a sensual edge to the possibility. That maybe, if she let him, he could teach her about more than the Force.

Rey imagines that he’d know what to do in bed, that sleeping with him wouldn’t end in disappointment. She finds herself fantasizing about Ren on top of her, beneath her, behind her. Having her in every way a man can have a woman, and she knows she ought to be ashamed of that. He was her enemy, he had hurt her friends and killed innocent people, and because of him Leia is a widow. She shouldn’t desire him like this, but she does.

And Rey thinks he might want her too. Ren’s dark eyes follow her whenever they’re in the same room, lingering on her with a heated curiosity that makes her wet no matter how public a place they’re in.

During a briefing for the next day’s mission, Ren keeps glancing at her, and Rey finds herself squirming in her seat. She refuses to look back at him, but it doesn’t matter, because she can feel the weight of his gaze. Intimate, interrogatory. She hopes he doesn’t know the effect he has on her. Because if he does, she’ll never live it down.

Rey takes Gevan back to her bed later that night. This time she gets on her hands and knees, welcomes him to fuck her without having to look on him. She focuses on the sensation of his cock inside her, his big hands holding her hips with almost hurtful strength, and it’s easy enough to close her eyes and pretend it’s a different man pumping between her legs. Rey reaches down to touch her sex, rubbing sweet circles there, trying to reach a release for once. She imagines the harsh breathing she hears is Ren’s, that the bruising grip on her body belongs to him, and she’s so _close_ that she doesn’t care how wrong this is, how unfair. Rey moans, a staggered cry she can’t seem to hold back, as the waves of pleasure build, bringing her right to the edge—

And then Gevan stops, pulls away from her, breaking the contact between them.

Angry, unfulfilled, and so near to coming that she can feel the throb of want pulsing down her legs, Rey turns around, faces Gevan, and asks, “What are you _doing_?”

He gets out of her bed, starts dressing, and looks at her with disgust. “You should be asking yourself that,” he says.

Rey gathers the rumpled sheets around her naked body. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is being called another man’s name while I’m inside you,” he hisses. “If you want that monster so badly, go fuck him. I don’t care.”

She’s thankful for the darkness, because without it he’d see how red her cheeks are, how ashamed she is. There isn’t anything she can say to defend herself, so Rey says nothing at all.

* * *

Word of her disastrous night with Gevan gets around the Resistance base like wildfire. Within three days everyone she knows is looking at her oddly. When Rey confronts her friends about it, Finn makes some excuse, saying he needs to prepare for his next raid, then hurries away. But Poe takes pity on her and tells her the truth: Gevan complained to his friends that she moaned Kylo Ren’s name while they were in bed together, and now everyone knows.

If the way Leia won’t meet her eyes is any indication, this particular bit of gossip travelled all the way up the chain of command.

Part of her wants to hide in her room until the judgement of her peers passes, but Rey is too proud for this. Her desires are no one’s business besides her own, and she refuses to let public shame get in the way of her duties for the Resistance.

She hopes that no one had the bravery or gall to tell Kylo Ren, but she finds out soon enough that this isn’t so. After their next sparring session, they sit side by side on the ground, sweaty and breathing hard from their exertions, and he asks, “Gevan Alterra, really?”

Rey feels her whole body flush. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” Ren says lightly. “Everyone else is.”

“You think I don’t know that? That this whole damn base isn’t staring at me? That everyone expects I want to be your—” She cuts herself off, too embarrassed to speak further.

Ren tilts his head and looks at her curiously. “My what?”

Rey isn’t entirely sure of which word she’d been approaching. _Lover_ , maybe? Or something less clean, perhaps. _Slut_ , or _whore_.

“Don’t make me say it,” she whispers. “I feel ashamed enough as it is.”

Ren smiles, if just barely, that hardly-there smirk that makes her want him all the more. Then he reaches over and touches her cheek, a gentle caress that sends her heart beating wildly. He leans closer, bridging the space between them, until his generous lips are pressing against hers. Rey kisses back, months of desire making her too weak to resist. Just the feel of that wicked mouth on her own has her wet, and she gasps against him, tugs at his dark clothes.

“What do you want?” he asks, and the breath of his words feels warm against her skin.

Rey leans away from him, looks at his lips, damp from their kissing, swollen from her greed.

“I want you to teach me,” she says.

* * *

Her first lesson takes place in the woods outside of the Resistance base. Rey takes off her clothes too quickly and clumsily for it to be seductive, but he watches her with hunger in his eyes just the same, his gaze lingering on her small breasts, then dropping to the thatch of coarse curls between her legs.

“Lie down,” he orders, so commanding and sure that she finds herself obeying.

Rey settles herself on a bed of damp grass, staring up at the canopy of green leaves above her while she listens to Kylo Ren undress. She wants to watch him reveal himself, to savor the sight of his pale skin as it’s bared, but for some reason she can’t bring herself to look.

But then he’s kneeling before her, his broad body blocking out the sunlight, casting her in shadow. Now she can’t keep from admiring him, from wanting to touch those vast shoulders and that lean waist, his thick-muscled legs and half-hard cock.

He grasps her breast, plucks at her hardened nipple, then puts his hand between her thighs, cupping her sex gently. She closes her eyes, embarrassed; he’s barely touched her and already she’s so wet, so ready that he could fuck her right now and she’d love it. Rey expects him to taunt her about this, but instead he slips two fingers inside of her, thrusts deeply and slowly. She makes a sound that should shame her, some high-pitched whine she can’t seem to hold back. He curls those big fingers just so, and a shock of pleasure makes her arch up off the ground, throw back her head, and grasp at the grass, reaching for purchase, for anything to keep her grounded. Then he’s driving into her harder and faster, so roughly that she feels exquisitely sore. The slick noise of his fingers slipping in and out of her sex makes her blush, the sound just shy of obscene.

“ _Please_ ,” she whimpers, not even sure what she’s begging for, only that he has the power to give it to her.

He answers with a brutal thrust of his fingers that draws a startled cry from her throat, so loud that, were she not beyond caring, Rey might worry that someone walking the grounds could hear them.

“I’m going to make you come so hard you scream,” Ren promises. “Would you like that, pet?”

“I’m—I’m not your—don’t call me—” Rey means to sound indignant, but she can’t articulate herself well enough to chastise him for that demeaning endearment.

He laughs, all masculine arrogance. She’s too on edge for it to anger her, so close to coming that she bucks up against his hand, unconcerned about how desperate she looks, how needful and indecent. Her body goes rigid when the pleasure finally crests, breaking over her in waves that make her tremble, that bring tears to her eyes.

Ren is right; he does make her scream.


	2. Chapter 2

Rey often thinks about what happened in the green woods with Kylo Ren, but she means to keep it quiet, to maintain some privacy. That hope goes out the window when he approaches her in a crowded hallway and wraps an arm around her waist. She can feel the broadness of his body behind her, the heat of his breath against her ear when he bends down to whisper, “Keep your door unlocked tonight.”

He kisses her temple, and just that gentle brush of his lips against her skin has Rey’s heart beating faster. It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him to let go of her, that he can’t touch her like this, not in public, where anyone can see. But just as she works up the courage to speak, he releases her from his grasp and continues on his way down the corridor. She watches him go, can’t help but admire the powerful way he walks, so commanding and full of purpose with every step.

Then she notices that half the Resistance fighters in the hall are looking at her, some with curiosity or amusement, some with outright disgust. Rey hurries to her quarters, eager to put distance between herself and their stares.

She leaves her bedroom door unlocked, just as he told her to.

* * *

He ties her hands to the bedposts with rope that he undoubtedly stole from some supply closet on base. Oddly, Rey isn’t the least bit nervous about allowing him this power over her; he’s not the same man he was before, no matter that Ren refuses to reclaim his birth name, and she knows he won’t hurt her. If she thought he would, she’d never have let him use her so roughly in the woods last week.

He kisses her with surprising gentleness. She loves the feeling of his full mouth against hers, his large hands roaming the landscape of her body, dipping into her hollows, rounding over her curves. Then his lips follow the path his hands took, marking a trail of hot kisses across her skin. He sucks on a pink nipple, and Rey arches up into the caress, biting back a moan.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you,” he says, and there’s a warning in his voice. The promise of punishment if she disobeys him. Somehow that thrills her more, makes her want to push him, just to see what his retribution might look like.

He kisses the valley between her breasts, her stomach, the point of her left hipbone. Her legs fall open, knees too weak to do anything else, and he settles between them. Looks at her with brown eyes so full of want that just his gaze sends shivers down her spine. Then that beautiful mouth of his is on her sex, licking and sucking, and Rey wishes her hands were free, that she could thread her fingers through his black hair. Her wrists strain against the rope, and the rich bite of the cord against her skin only makes her want more.

It’s too much, the feel of his mouth working on her sensitive flesh, his dexterous tongue lapping up her wetness, playing with her. The pleasure mounts but won’t crest, and Rey bucks against him, seeking more pressure, something to push her over the edge, but it’s not enough.

Ren gives one long, last lick along her sex that makes her shudder and cry out, then he climbs on top of her. His strong body overwhelms her, so broad and solid. Her wetness glistens on his lips, his eyes are bright as if fevered, and thick hair falls into his face.

_He’s beautiful_ , she thinks.

Ren is looking at her like he’s never wanted anything as much in his life as he wants her in this moment. He guides his cock between her legs, and then he’s sliding inside of her. She’s full, stretched, tender and aching. He feels so impossibly good, and Rey wraps her long legs around his waist, lifts herself against his thrusts, trying to take him as deep as she can. Her arms are sore from being suspended above her head, but the pain of it only intensifies the pleasure she feels where their bodies meet.

She watches him, admires the beauty of his expressive face. Lips parted on a soft sound that might be her name, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, cheeks flushed. He slips a hand between them while he fucks her, those long fingers quick to rub circles on her sex, and it brings her right to the brink, the sensation of his caresses while his cock fills her. Rey comes shamefully fast, trembling all over and shouting into the shadowed warmth of her room.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Ren says.

He unties her, turns her over onto her stomach, and fucks her from behind until she’s begging for him to have her harder, faster. This time, when she reaches her release, Rey presses her face into the pillow and buries her cries in its softness.

Ren grasps her chin and turns her face to the side, so that her moans are no longer muffled. “What did I tell you, Rey?” he asks sharply.

“That you want to hear me,” she answers, breathless.

“That’s right,” he says between pants, and now his voice is strained. He must be close, and she’s thankful, because she can’t take much more of this. Ren rocks against her, into her, and every thrust sends a spike of pleasure through her body, makes her whimper. He groans when he comes, a deep sound of pure relief that Rey thinks she’ll never grow tired of.

* * *

After that display in the corridor, Rey knows people will be talking about her and Ren—even more than they already do, thanks to Gevan. So it isn’t much of a surprise when Finn seeks her out and asks, “Are you sleeping with Kylo Ren?”

Rey is making her bed. She’d left her door unlocked the last three nights in a row, and by this morning her sheets had been in desperate need of changing. Now she straightens her blankets and fluffs her pillows, anything to keep from answering Finn’s question.

“Rey?” he asks, quieter now.

She sits on the edge of her bed, puts her head in her hands, and says, “Yes. I’m sleeping with him.”

Rey makes herself look up. Finn is frowning at her, but he doesn’t appear to be angry. No, what she sees on his face is much worse than fury: disappointment.

She feels the absurd desire to say she’s sorry, but Rey knows she shouldn’t have to apologize for her intimate life—no matter who she shares it with—and so instead she says, “If you’ve come to lecture me—”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Finn says, but there’s a sharp edge to his smile. “I’ve got to go anyway. Poe’s teaching me how to pilot an X-wing.”

“Okay,” Rey says, and she hates how small her voice sounds. “We’ll catch up later, though, yeah?”

Finn is her best friend, as good as family, and if this thing she’s doing with Ren comes between them she knows she’ll choose love over desire.

“Sure,” Finn says, and he leaves her sitting alone on her freshly made bed.

That night, Rey locks her door.

* * *

She manages to avoid Ren for a full week, but on the eighth day he corners her after a strategy meeting. Grabs her by the hand and whispers, “Wait.”

“Let go of me,” Rey hisses, because people are still filing out of the room, and it makes her uncomfortable when he handles her familiarly in public.

The look he gives her is so hard, unflinching and heated, that for a moment she thinks he may do something stupid, like kiss her. Instead, he releases her hand and straightens himself until he’s looming over her. Broad, strong, more handsome than any man has the right to be, and Rey finds herself leaning against the wall for support.

When the door finally closes behind the last person, leaving them utterly alone, Ren braces his hands against the wall on either side of her. “You locked me out,” he says, and just the cadence of his deep voice makes her feel weak.

“I did,” Rey agrees, and she’s proud of how strong and sure she manages to sound. “We can’t keep doing this—this whatever it is that we’ve been up to—”

“Get on your knees,” Ren says.

“What?” Rey asks—a reflexive question, as she heard him well enough.

He looks her up and down, looks at her like he knows every inch of her. And he does, of course.

“Get on your knees,” Ren repeats, this time slowly and deliberately.

She shouldn’t, Rey knows. Not if she wants to put a stop to this affair. But that’s the problem; stopping it is the last thing she wants.

So she kneels before him, unfastens his pants, and takes him in her hand. They’ve been together enough now that Rey is beginning to learn what he likes. How Ren enjoys being touched, the kinds of things she can say to unravel him. Now she kisses the blunt tip of his cock, so softly at first that, were she kissing his lips, it would almost be chaste. He shudders when her tongue darts out to lick. His taste is musky, salty, and something about it makes her thighs tighten together. Then she sucks him in earnest, and Ren slams his fist against the durasteel wall. Maybe it ought to frighten her, how easily he turns to violence, even in the middle of a moment like this, but all Rey can manage to feel is triumph. Pride in her ability to draw such fierce reactions from him.

* * *

She goes to Ren’s room for the first time, and Rey is almost startled by its emptiness. He keeps his quarters surgically clean and devoid of personal possessions. Perhaps this is merely a matter of preference, but then again, it could simply be that he has nothing to display.

After they fuck, she makes to leave his rumpled bed, but Ren catches her by the wrist. He’s always doing that, holding onto her for longer than she allows.

“What do you want?” Rey asks. She tries to tug her arm out of his grasp, but he only tightens his hold.

“I want you to stay,” Ren says.

He sounds so commanding, but his dark eyes tell her all she needs to know. This isn’t an order; it’s a plea. Somehow, that’s far more frightening.

“I can’t,” she whispers, but before Rey can come up with a good story, Ren releases her.

“Don’t bother lying. Just go,” he says.

She dresses with shaking hands, hurries back to her room, and spends a long night in her cold bed, lonely and sleepless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so somehow this smut-fest started developing something resembling plot, so this is going to be a little longer than a two-shot. Hopefully I’ll be able to wrap it up in Chapter 3. 
> 
> Hopefully.
> 
> Thank you ReyloTrashCompactor for being the world’s best beta! (Also you guys should totally go check out her new multi-chapter Reflektor. It’s awesome!)


	3. Chapter 3

It’s almost a game they play. A hot and cold endeavor, the push and pull of her willpower determining if and when they fuck. When Rey is weak, she allows Ren to have her however he likes. To order her around, tie her up, spank her and slap her. To call her filthy things that would infuriate her under any other circumstances. When she is strong enough to resist, to do the _right_ thing, she rejects him soundly. Sometimes by locking her bedroom door, sometimes by telling him outright that she doesn’t want him. If he had any pride he’d quit coming back for more, Rey thinks, rather ruthlessly.

Of course, if she had any, she’d stop letting him between her legs.

Tonight, she’s strong and locks herself in her bedroom, but Ren slams his fist against the metal door and says, loud enough to wake her neighbors, “Let me in!”

She ignores him for a long moment, hoping that anger and frustration will drive him away, but instead she hears the sound of machinery being ripped out of the wall. Rey hopes he’s simply succumbing to a fit of rage, as he sometimes does. Surely Kylo Ren doesn’t have the mechanical skill to unlock—

Her door slides open and Ren bursts into her room, looking as livid as she’s ever seen him.

“I’m sick of this,” he says. “Begging at your door like a dog every night, waiting to see whether I’ll be allowed in or locked out.”

Rey stands and hisses, “If you want to fight, at least close the door so half the base doesn’t hear our private business.”

“I don’t give a damn who hears!” Ren shouts, and he strides closer, until there’s not an inch of space between them. He’s looming over her, broad chest rising and falling rapidly with his heavy breaths, and Rey has rarely felt so small in all her life.

The fury never leaves his face, but suddenly a fierce lust dilutes the purity of his angry expression, and she knows that he wants to fuck her.

Ren pulls her against him, grips her loose hair, and tilts her head back roughly. He leans down, his back bowing sharply, and bites her bottom lip. Hard enough to hurt just a bit, but teasing enough to send a thrill of pleasure through her. Rey’s mouth opens further and she makes a soft sound, even as she pulls away, breaking the contact. He frowns, then picks her up, carries her to the bed, and drops her to the mattress none too gently.

If she tells him to stop, he will. Ren may be aggressive in bed, but he always listens when she says _no_. It’s one word, simple enough to speak, but for some reason Rey can’t find the will to voice it.

He starts to strip out of his clothes, and she glances at the still open door.

Ren doesn’t follow her gaze, but he must know what she’s looking at, because he says, “I’m not shutting it, and neither are you.”

That order embarrasses her, but then Rey’s attention is drawn to the beautiful body he’s baring. So tall and strongly built, his every movement deliberate and impassioned.

Once he’s naked, Ren climbs onto the bed and rips at the low collar of her nightdress, tearing it right down the middle, rending it to the waist. This must satisfy him, because he smirks—the very same smile he flashed at her the day he interrogated her, and Rey’s stomach flips uncomfortably at the memory.

_That’s not him anymore_ , she thinks. _No matter what name he goes by._

“That was my favorite nightdress,” Rey says mildly.

If he’s bothered by her scolding, Ren doesn’t show it. He rucks up what’s left of her torn sleepwear around her middle, then freezes when he sees that she went to bed without underwear tonight. She’d considered letting him in, only to lock her door at the very last instant (so perhaps she had not been so very strong after all).

Ren curses, then plunges two fingers into her sex, working her so roughly that it makes her whimper, the pleasure and discomfort melding together in a delicious way that Rey has become all too familiar with. She bites her lip to keep from making any loud noises, throwing glances at the door every few moments, half terrified that someone will walk by and see Kylo Ren fucking her with his fingers.

How it would please him if that happened, she imagines. The arrogant bastard.

Rey puts her foot in the middle of his chest and pushes him away. Ren falls back to the mattress, and she clambers on top of him, an ache throbbing between her legs that demands his attention. She straddles his hips, guides his cock to her sex. The open door seems to be watching her back as she lowers herself onto him, and Ren makes a needy moan—loud, broken, attention-seeking. Rey rides him, enjoying her rare moment of dominance. As much as she loves submitting to him, it sends a thrill through her to see this great man trapped between her strong thighs, now glaring at her with equal parts anger and desire. Ren bucks up against her wildly, each thrust making her quake with the pleasure of it.

“Hit me,” he whispers, and Rey is so startled by this command that she stops moving.

“What?” she asks.

Ren grasps her hand, brings it to his face, and kisses her palm almost sweetly. Then he makes her cup his cheek and repeats, even quieter now, almost like he’s ashamed of himself, “Hit me.”

Rey slaps him hard enough to make his head turn, and she feels his cock grow harder inside of her.

Suddenly he’s flipped her onto her back again, and now he’s kneeling between her legs, pounding into her with punishing thrusts that make her shout, open door be damned. Rey starts to rub herself with shaking fingers—but then Ren grabs her wrists and pins them over her head, withholding her release.

“I hate you,” Rey says, breathless. “I hate you so much.”

“Liar,” he says, and that smirk is back, playing around his full lips in a way that makes her want to kiss him.

Ren refuses to give her what he knows she needs to come, instead rocking into her hard and fast, selfishly slaking his desire without regard for anything else.

“Beg,” he orders.

She’s so close she could cry from the frustration of it, but Rey is determined not to give him the pleasure of pleading, and she shakes her head.

“Fine then,” Ren says, as if it makes no difference to him either way. “I can keep this up all night.”

Sure enough, he continues fucking her so hard it almost hurts, pushing her closer and closer to a climax that remains just out of reach. She struggles against his large hands, but his grip on her wrists is like durasteel, impossible to break through.

She won’t beg him, she _won’t_ , Rey swears to herself, even as tears slide down the sides of her face, warm and wet. Ren presses his pouty lips to her cheek, and his tongue darts out to taste the wetness there, a lewd little lick that makes her shudder with anger and need. He punctuates this obscene, insulting kiss with a particularly harsh thrust. She’s a crying mess beneath him, and _still_ pride keeps her from pleading.

“You are a stubborn girl,” he says, and Rey loves the admiration she hears in his voice. Then he’s kissing her mouth, sloppy with desperation, and she can’t help but kiss back.

Ren releases her wrists, but it’s only so he can pull away and press his cock to her bottom, guiding himself to a place she’s never let anyone have her. He stops, breathing heavily, pale cheeks flushed red with want, and waits for her to let him know whether or not this is all right.

Rey nods, and then he’s slowly pressing himself into her, his cock so slick with her wetness that he slides inside of her body easily, but the sensation is so different from before that she has to bite back a whimper. It hurts, and the fullness is overwhelming. Ren slides his fingers into her aching sex once again, and Rey bucks up against him, needing more of his touch. But the movement brings his cock deeper inside of her, and she cries out, torn between conflicting feelings.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

“No,” she moans, and is that really her, sounding so broken and desperate?

“Good,” Ren says, the commanding tone settled into his voice again.

He keeps fucking her with his fingers and his cock at once, his maddening thrusts too shallow and gentle to make her come.

“Harder,” Rey says.

“Ask nicely,” he teases, “and maybe I’ll give you what you want, pet.”

She despises that endearment, and Ren knows it.

“Get off me,” Rey says, even though she knows he won’t; they set aside a word some weeks ago, for moments like this, and if she uses it he’ll let her go immediately. That signal is on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t bring herself to say the word.

Still, he fucks her so sweetly and gently that she can barely stand it.

“You’re a bastard,” Rey says.

“And you’re a dirty scavenger with no manners,” he returns.

“Not all of us were raised by royalty, Ben,” she says, all mock sweetness, and he looks at her with unadulterated fury.

“Don’t,” he hisses.

“ _Ben_ ,” Rey repeats, just to anger him further.

He takes her more roughly, and she makes an embarrassing squeak of a sound at the twin feelings of pain and pleasure between her legs. He pumps his fingers in and out of her in tandem with his cock’s thrusts, hard and fast, and then finally the climax that she’s been chasing builds to a crest and crashes over her. Rey shouts, back arched off the bed, legs trembling terribly. Ren pulls out of her and comes on her stomach, his dark eyes squeezed shut, full mouth open on a deep groan.

Not a minute passes before he says, breathless, “Don’t ever call me that again.”

He’s out of the bed, pulling on his clothes, while Rey lies naked and sore, his come pooling on her belly, too hard-used to find the energy to move. “It seems to me you liked it,” she says.

Once he’s fully dressed, Ren hurries from her room, practically running away.

He leaves the door open behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I swear to god the next chapter will contain actual plot, not just smut. And I’ve given up on trying to guess how many parts this story will be…


	4. Chapter 4

Rey has grown used to Ren’s shameless pursuit of her, but he hasn’t come to her room since the night she called him by his true name. She tells herself it’s better like this. After all, she’s been trying to drive him away for weeks. _I don’t want you_ , she’s told him a hundred times, in every way it could be said.

A lie, of course, because Rey has never needed anything in her life the way she needs this man. The hunger she knew on Jakku was more devastating, the desire to learn with Master Luke more pressing, but none of these necessities made her ache like _this_. Starvation weakened her and training strengthened her, while the affair they’ve carried on somehow seems to do both. She feels more alive, yet more helpless and out of control, than ever in her life. Only standing on the edge of a chasm, the Skywalker lightsaber in her hand, looking down on an enemy she viciously defeated, exceeds it. Nothing else has ever exhilarated or exhausted her more.

It’s almost funny, how these moments always seem to revolve around Kylo Ren.

Rey knows she should be relieved that he’s finally giving up, finally letting her go, and she is—but this relief tastes oddly similar to disappointment.

* * *

Ren admitted, once, in a vulnerable moment after she’d made him come, that he’d desired her from the first day they met. At the time, Rey thought he meant her body alone, but now she’s not so sure. How many nights did he cling to her after their fucking, gentle in the wake of such sweet brutality? How many times did he ask to sleep by her side?

Sometimes he reminds her of a lost little boy, unable to bear the solitude he’s brought on himself by wandering away. And at other moments he could not be more a man, violent and commanding in his arrogance. What a study in contradictions he is, this stranger and lover, enemy and ally, who brings such pain and pleasure to her life.

It’s easy enough to avoid him, and on those rare occasions when they find themselves in the same space, Rey does her best to stay composed and dispassionate.

Ren doesn’t bother with such pretenses. He still wants her, and he barely tries to hide it. Rey can feel his desire in the weight of his heated glances, the way his dark eyes linger on her body, so hungry and possessive. This is difficult to ignore, because every time he looks at her like this she remembers what it felt like to have him inside of her.

Today, he steals glances at her throughout an entire meeting. Lieutenant Reska brings important intel to the table—the First Order is planning to build a new base in the Unknown Regions on a barely-habitable aquatic planet—but Rey can hardly focus on the officer’s report because Kylo Ren will not stop staring at her. He gives Reska the illusion of his attention, but whenever there’s a lull in the report, it’s Rey he looks to.

All she can think, every time he glances her way, is that’s it’s been forty-seven days since he touched her. Not that she’s counting.

After the briefing is over, Rey strides from the room, hoping that the heaviness of her steps will hide the truth—that she’s running away.

She goes to her quarters, climbs into bed, and rubs herself with shaking fingers until she comes, all the while thinking of the last time Ren fucked her. Afterward, she lies there, panting and frustrated, still aching between her legs because that wasn’t nearly what she wanted. How sad her own touch feels now, how disappointing and pale compared to Ren’s.

* * *

They no longer train together, but Ren still has to take time to practice his combat skills, and Rey develops the unfortunate habit of spying on him while he moves through his lightsaber forms. This time she squats behind a bellberry bush, hiding under the cover of the spade-shaped leaves, and peeks through the foliage.

Even when he has no opponent, Ren fights with such anger and purpose. He wields that crackling plasma blade of his, forceful in his every thrust and slash, and the air itself seems to hum with the energy around him. He spins his lightsaber between attacks, just as he does in battle, and uses his off-hand to wield the Force—a weapon just as deadly as the red blade he carries.

But today something changes, and halfway through an elegant form he gives up on restraint and takes his lightsaber to a nearby boulder. For a full thirty seconds he screams and vents his anger on an object that can stand the brunt of his temper. Then he tosses his unlit saber to the ground and rips at his own hair, cursing between heavy breaths.

She watches, half appalled by the violence of his frustration, half desperate to soothe him with what comfort she knows how to give.

She spent months sharing a bed with Ren, but in all this time Rey never bothered to ask him anything meaningful. Why did he abandon the cause he’d dedicated himself to? What finally turned him away from his Supreme Leader? And now that he’s joined the Resistance, why won’t he reclaim the name his parents gave him?

Rey watches him now, too stubborn (or perhaps too cowardly) to approach him and break the silence that’s grown between them, but these questions haunt her. She wants the answer to the riddle that is Kylo Ren—that is Ben Solo.

She wants to _know_ him, Rey realizes.

She sneaks back to the base, shaken and a little frightened by her own curiosity.

* * *

Rey wakes to someone pounding on her door. It’s Ren, she knows. Maybe their fifty-third day apart was just one too many for him.

She lets him inside, closes the door, and backs away before he can touch her. Ren reaches out, his large hand suspended in the air, almost sad in its desperation, but he makes no move to grab her.

“Why are you here?” Rey asks.

“You know why.” She expects anger to color his voice, but that isn’t what she hears when he speaks. No, there’s something more like shame underlying his words when he says, “I miss you.”

“You miss fucking me,” Rey corrects, because that’s easier for her to deal with. His desire she can handle, but anything else—anything deeper or meaningful—is more than she can accept.

Ren frowns, and there it is, that fury of his that always lurks so close beneath the surface, like a match just ready to be struck into flame. “That’s not what I said, and not what I meant.”

Rey pulls her nightdress over her head and drops it to the floor. Now she’s standing in nothing but her underwear, nearly naked beneath his hungry gaze. “Am I wrong then?” she asks. “This isn’t what you’re here for?”

He picks her up and sits her on top of the dresser. Ren yanks her panties down her legs, throws them to the floor, and cups her sex. Just that, the simple feel of his hand holding her, wrenches a pathetic noise from Rey, some cross between a whimper and a sob. She bucks against him, too desperate for more to care how pitiful she looks.

“This is all you’ll let me have,” he says, and now he’s caressing her between her legs and trailing gentle kisses from her forehead to her temple, from the apple of her cheek to her jaw. He has to bend down so much to kiss her neck that he looks like a supplicant at worship, or a subject bowing before his queen.

When he slips two blunt fingers inside of her, Rey moans, weak legs trembling. It’s been so long and he feels so good that right now there isn’t anything she wouldn’t do if he told her to. He thrusts in and out of her, slowly, sweetly—until he pulls his wet fingers from her sex and wipes them on her stomach.

“ _No_ ,” Rey says. “You can’t tease me tonight. I can’t take it.”

She sounds wretched, needful, and hates herself for it.

Ren kisses her, but he keeps it frustratingly chaste. Then he whispers against her lips, “You haven’t had anyone in your bed since me, have you?”

She refuses to answer, to stroke his ego with the truth.

He kisses her again, still softly. “It’s all right,” he says. “There’s no one else I want either.”

This frightens her almost as much as it thrills her. “Please don’t say things like that.”

Ren looks at her, splayed for his gaze on the cold surface of the dresser, his attention flitting from her peaked nipples to the thatch of brown curls at the junction of her spread legs. He unbuckles his belt, and the metallic sound sends an anticipatory shiver through her. “You belong to me,” he says. “Get used to it.”

She shakes her head, even as she lets him guide his cock to her sex. “You’re wrong.”

Then he pushes, and he’s finally inside of her, stretching her so fully that it hurts a little. Ren pauses, gives her body a moment to adjust to the intrusion.

“You’re mine,” he says, and he starts to rock into her slowly.

“No,” Rey says. Still, she’s arching into his sweet thrusts, and already the pleasure is coiling low in her belly.

He keeps the pace steady and slow until she begs him to fuck her harder, faster. Then his thrusts turn so brutal that each one pushes her against the wall roughly, nearly knocking the breath out of her. Rey loves every moment of it, and she moans her pleasure into the darkness. Wordless cries that grow louder and lewder the closer she gets to her release.

Ren reaches between her legs and strokes her, his wicked fingers rubbing sweet circles on her sex while he pounds her against the wall.

“Who owns you?” he asks, breathless but savage.

He’ll stop if she doesn’t answer, and she can’t stand that sort of taunting, not tonight. That’s the only reason she whimpers, “You do.”

Saying it aloud shames and pleasures her at once, and her climax crashes over her all of a sudden, a rush of bliss where their bodies meet. Ren lets himself go a moment later, shuddering and groaning as he comes.

His cock is still inside of her when Rey tells herself that she doesn’t belong to anybody. Regardless of what she said in the heat of the moment, she is _owned_ by no one. It was a lie, plain and simple.

Except she counted fifty-three nights without him, the same way she used to mark her days on the wall of a crippled imperial walker. Turned down a handful of offers to warm her bed, purely because she had no desire for any man besides Ren. Spied on him in the woods for the simple pleasure of watching his powerful body move through combat forms.

She _yearned_ for him, like some kind of stupid, lovesick girl.

“Get off me,” Rey says, pushing weakly against his chest.

He immediately freezes, pulls out of her. “What’s wrong?”

Rey clambers off of the dresser on unsteady legs. She aches for his touch still, despite coming only moments ago. Needs it like she needs air to breathe, and that only makes matters worse. This thing between them, it was supposed to be easy, the simple slaking of shared lust. So how did it end up this complicated?

She can’t find her underwear, but Rey pulls on her nightdress and turns away from him. “You should go,” she says, arms crossed over her chest. “And don’t bother me again.”

“What?” Ren asks. “Why?”

Hurt and fury war in his voice. She can hear it as plainly as she can hear him fastening his pants and buckling his belt.

“I—I don’t want you anymore,” Rey says.

He grabs her by the shoulder and turns her around. She stubbornly stares at the duracrete floor beneath her bare feet, refusing to look at him.

“I know you’re lying,” Ren says. “What I don’t know is why.”

She dares to look up and sees that his beautiful face is twisted with frustration, anger, and something else. A sorrow so deep that she fears to discover its source.

“Just go,” Rey says. She means to be commanding, but instead she sounds pitiable and pleading. Weak.

Ren kisses her with a tenderness that she didn’t know he possessed. As if he thinks that this is the last of their embraces and he wants it to be the sweetest of all.

When it’s over, he touches her cheek with impossible gentleness and whispers, “Goodbye, Rey.”


	5. Epilogue

In their time as lovers, Kylo Ren taught her many lessons—but this one, Rey finds, is the most important: there is no room in a warrior’s life for a weakness like love. 

She reminds herself of this on a warm spring morning, when she visits Ben for the first time in three years. The war is long over, and the galaxy has known peace for two decades. She and Luke defeated Snoke, but not without cost; her master now lies beneath a cairn at the first Jedi temple, and Rey walks with the uneven stride of someone with one robotic leg. The First Order was vanquished and scattered, its remnants forced to the fringes of the Unknown Regions—in no small part due to the efforts of General Organa, Finn, Poe, and many other Resistance fighters.

She returns to the island once every few years, to pay her respects to her master, and to visit Ahch-To’s only inhabitant. Ben lives in the old underground temple, and he drinks fresh water from the moisture collector Luke constructed half a lifetime ago. Rey knows that he keeps a vigil by his uncle’s grave every sunrise, sometimes for just a few minutes, sometimes for hours, but he never says anything to the dead man.

This is where she finds him today, sitting quietly beside Luke’s resting place.

“Hello, Ben.”

He looks over his shoulder and nods. “Rey.”

She takes a seat on the grass next to him. Reaches out and places her hand on the sun warmed stones that make up her master’s cairn.

Ben will turn fifty at the end of the year, and his age is beginning to show. Silver streaks through his dark hair now, crow’s feet perch at the corners of his expressive eyes, and frown lines bracket the mouth that taught her the pleasure of kissing.

“How’s the academy?” Ben asks.

“Busy,” Rey says.

She’s been teaching Force-sensitives how to wield their powers for the better part of twenty years, but lately she’s been feeling restless. Ready for a change. Half a lifetime stranded on Jakku gave Rey an appreciation for travel, and teaching a new generation allows few opportunities for exploration.

“I think I’ll be handing the reins over to Voss soon,” she says.

Ben looks at her, clearly surprised. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m always sure,” Rey says.

“Don’t I know it.” Ben smirks—and how is it that, even after all these years, that expression still makes her want to kiss him?

They sit together and watch the sun rise over the blue ocean, casting its rippling waves in shades of bronze.

“How long will you stay this time?” Ben asks.

“A week,” Rey says. Any less and she’ll hate herself for the next few years; any more, and she might never leave this island.

She takes his hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. “After I help Voss take over, I’m going to visit Kashyyyk. Then maybe Dantooine. After that, who knows?”

“Hm,” Ben says. “Are you sure that rust bucket will get you there?”

“There’s no finer ship in the galaxy than the _Falcon_ ,” Rey says, bristling. “You should know that better than anyone. It made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs—”

“Twelve,” Ben says.

“Whatever.” Rey squeezes his fingers again, suddenly nervous. “I could use a co-pilot.”

He frowns, staring at his uncle’s cairn as if the secrets of the galaxy might be written on its stones. “My place is here,” he says.

Rotting on this island, endlessly atoning for his sins in isolation. Only one thing might persuade him to leave, but Rey refuses to give it to him.

She stays for the promised week. Except for his daily treks up the hill to mourn Luke, Ben remains by her side. They spar, share meals, drink Corellian wine, and fuck like two youths in their prime.

The night before she’s set to leave again, Ben kisses her breast, right over her heart, and says, “Marry me.”

He asks every time she visits. And every time, it’s more and more difficult for Rey to find the simple word _no._

“I can’t,” she says.

“You won’t,” Ben corrects, but he doesn’t seem angry or disappointed. Merely unsurprised.

“Why do you keep asking?” Her refusals tear at her conscience, and Rey wishes he would stop forcing her to voice them.

“Why did you stay on Jakku for nineteen years?” Ben asks. “Even when you knew, deep down, that no one would ever come back for you?”

“Hope,” Rey whispers, blushing. “Love.”

“Well there’s your answer,” Ben says.

She kisses him goodbye the next morning, a sweet farewell that she can still feel on her lips long after the _Falcon_ has left Ahch-To. It’s not enough to sustain her heart for another three years, but it will have to do.


End file.
